Better then Harlem
by MastaChief3
Summary: Jesse goes on a road trip.


Phillip Dickey 11-10-03 Humanities 9-2  
  
Better then Harlem  
  
Jesse B Simple here to tell you a little story. I have gone everywhere. Where the mountains meet the sea to where the west was once wild, and you know I would do it again. I would do it again because it's much better then sitting here in Harlem, in this bar stool that I have been in the past hour and a half. I would get up off my butt and take my aching feet out of the bar and walk my body back to my place. Then I would pack up my personal things and start on my adventure for the second time. I would walk through deserts, hike through rugged terrain, cut my way across Oklahoma, dodge the bullets of racism and make my way slowly to the other side. When I got to the other side I would find a job on the other side and make me some money. I would then use that money to buy food for myself so that I can keep on living.  
After I had spent the money, I would work again and make more money. This time I would save the money and get me a buggy. I would then use that buggy to drive around in so I wouldn't have to walk on my poor sore tired feet. I then would drive myself to a different state and drive around in that state looking at interesting stuff befor driving to the next state. When driving got tiresome I would pull over to an inn for the night, or if I wasn't anywhere near a inn, I would sleep under the stars. When I woke up I would hop back in the buggy, and drive more. I would drive to places poor and rich, Diversity and no diversity, riots 24 hours a day and sometimes 3 days. I would see some of the most amazing things and things that weren't so amazing. Sometimes I would pull in somewhere for a bite to eat, but not everyplace would accept me. Every once in a while I would have to get gas for my buggy, and the lines were as long as the eye could see.  
After I got my gas, I would be on my way again. Some days would be nothing but driving, and other days would be big time cities with big flashing lights. When I was in those big cities I would try to go see a movie wherever I was accepted. Sometimes I would go to one of them big city bars and see if it was the same as the one I went to back in Harlem, or if it was different. Sometimes it was different, and sometimes it wasn't different. I still preferred the bar in Harlem the best overall. Sometimes I would stay in big cities a couple nights every once in a while when I needed a big brake from driving. When I stayed in cities for like 2-3 days, (when I had the money to) I saw stuff that I would never see in Harlem. After those 2-3 days, I would be back on the road.  
  
When I felt generous, I would give hitchhikers a ride to their destination. That was rare though. When I did give hitchhikers rides though, I went to some of the most amazing places ever. I would sometimes go back to places I had already been, but a lot of the time I would go to new places I had never been to in my life. When I slept, I would sleep in my buggy if I weren't near a town. I would pull off to the side, Way off to the side and go to sleep. Says simple as he takes a swig of his beer. "What was your all time favorite place?" asks the bartender.  
  
My Favorite place to go to would be the beaches. Or whatever beaches accepted a black person like me. Everytime I saw a beach, and if I was allowed to go on it, I would find an empty beach chair, relax and watch the women go by. Then when it was time to go, I would get off the beach and back into my buggy, and then I would be on the road again. My second favorite place to go to was California. Man, you should have been there. There were the finest girls ever in that state. It was the finest state in all the places I've been in.  
  
After I went to Calfornia I decided it was about time to turn back. I get out of the state of California and I was on my way back to Harlem. It took a month to get back to Harlem. It felt weird going back to Harlem. I guess I just went on a very very long road trip and never decided to go back till now. Now, Here I sit on this here stool I have been sitting on for the past two hours telling of my story to a bartender and some guy I don't even know. "Good story says the bartender", "Here's another beer" "its on the house" sys the bartender. "Thanks" Simple says. All I have to say is to end my story, is that It was better then Harlem will ever be or get, says Simple. 


End file.
